


Let's Live Suddenly Without Thinking

by Lalalli



Series: The Applebirds and The Applebees [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, F/M, Fingering (implied), FitzSimmons - Freeform, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, Humor, Makey-Outies, Nudity, Oblivious Science Babies, Rounding the Bases, Slippery Slope, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:19:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6039775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalalli/pseuds/Lalalli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AKA Fitzsimmons round the bases<br/>AKA Fitzsimmons slide down the slippery slope of experimentation and "practice"<br/>AKA Fitzsimmons play with their Wham-O Slip N' Slide Surf Explorer Hydroplane Double, Horny Scientist Edition</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Keep Going

**Author's Note:**

> Because Carrie wanted a fic showing what happens between "Applebirds and Applebees" and "So Quite a New Thing" and I am finding that I succumb very easily to peer pressure. It's a good thing no one's ever offered me drugs.
> 
> Title taken from yet another ee cummings poem.
> 
> Probably 5 chapters? First 3 chapters definitely occur between "Applebirds" and "He Don't Use Jelly". After that...we'll see?

It’s fairly late on a Wednesday evening when Fitz barges out of his bedroom, stumbles dramatically to the couch, and collapses onto it with his head in Jemma’s lap, facing her stomach. He curls up so that his toes press against the opposite arm of the couch and his knees dig into the back cushions. He shimmies his shoulders demandingly.

Jemma can barely contain her laughter. “What are you trying to say?” she asks, feigning ignorance.

Fitz looks up at her and pouts. “Remember when the doctor said that if I don’t get my back scratched every day, I would die?”

Jemma smiles down at him. “I don’t quite remember that, actually.”

“Jemmmmaaa,” he whines. “My back is so itchy!”

Jemma rolls her eyes and reaches down, pulling up the hem of his sweater so that she can run her fingernails across his back. “Alright, you big baby.”

“Higher up,” Fitz demands.

“Take your sweater off, then. My wrists don’t bend that way.”

Fitz rises off her lap only far enough to pull his sweater off, then immediately settles back into her lap. “Ooh, yeah,” he sighs as Jemma scratches across his shoulder blades. “A little up. More to the right. A little more. Right there.” He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his face into her stomach. “You’re the best.”

“I need to record you saying that so I can play it back to you the next time we have an argument,” Jemma jokes.

“Arguments?” Fitz echoes, feigning indignance. “And here I was, thinking we were merely having spirited debates.” Fitz inches up the hem of Jemma’s shirt and presses a soft kiss to her stomach.

Jemma shakes her head in amusement and returns to reading her scientific journal, holding it above Fitz’s head with one hand while continuing to scratch Fitz’s back with the other.

Fitz leaves his lips on the bare strip of skin below where he lifted up her shirt, not kissing her as much as allowing his lips to linger there. They stay there in contented silence for a few minutes, until Fitz gets bored, grins mischievously, and sticks his tongue out, licking Jemma right above her belly button.

Jemma recoils and pushes at Fitz’s shoulders, though there’s no real force behind it. She pats his back perfunctorily. “Okay, backscratch over,” she announces.

“Noooo,” Fitz whines. “Pleeease?”

“Nope. You ruined it.”

Fitz presses another kiss to Jemma’s stomach. “Please?”

“Nope.” Jemma concentrates intently on reading her journal.

Fitz slowly lifts Jemma’s shirt higher, following it with his lips.

Jemma laughs. “Stop!” she squeals when her shirt reaches her armpits and Fitz kisses the skin right under her bra.

“Okay,” Fitz agrees immediately. He sits back and smiles at Jemma for a few moments.

Jemma rolls her eyes and pulls off her shirt, turning to face him. “I was joking. Keep going.” 

Fitz grabs her face in both hands and crashes their lips together, their kiss a fumbling clash of teeth and tongues. His hands clutch at her curtain of hair before delving underneath to stroke her back, wiggling his fingers under her bra straps and following down until he reaches the clasp. He hesitates, his fingers hovering over it. This is new territory for them.

Even though they’ve been practicing extra… _activities_...since the evening of the disastrous dinner at The Restaurant That Shall Not Be Named, they’ve kept those activities strictly over the bra. But this is not the first time Fitz’s fingers have hovered there, and Jemma would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious.

Jemma makes a split-second decision. “Keep going,” she mumbles into his mouth.

Fitz fumbles with the clasp for a full minute before Jemma groans impatiently and reaches back to unclasp it herself. She tosses it aside and reaches for Fitz again, but he remains frozen in his spot, staring at her chest.

Jemma smiles at him, amused. “Go on.”

And Fitz, much like he does with all new challenges he faces, dives in head first.

\-----------

“Oh, _shit_. Shit shit shit.” Jemma all but shoves Fitz off the couch when she hears the shrill ringing of her alarm. “I can’t believe we fell asleep!”

Fitz can’t believe that he got to sleep between two decidedly fleshy pillows.

Jemma rushes into her room to change her clothes while Fitz blearily tries to figure out what is happening. It usually takes him an extra hour of lying in bed before he’s ready to actually get up. “What time is it?” he asks.

Jemma holds up her phone, and Fitz _knows_ he’s supposed to be looking at the phone, but her blouse is still unbuttoned and he didn’t know that Jemma owns a purple bra and _boobs_.

“This is my backup alarm, Fitz! We’re going to be late to class!” She runs to the bathroom, shoves her toothbrush into her mouth and rushes to Fitz’s bedroom.

“What’re you doing?” Fitz asks, confused.

Jemma emerges from his room with a fresh pair of trousers and a sweater. She throws his clothes violently at him. “Get dressed!” she orders, mint foam flying from her mouth. She rushes back to the bathroom.

Fitz tugs his sweater on before shucking off yesterday’s trousers and replacing them with the fresh pair Jemma threw at him.

“Bathroom is yours,” Jemma tells him as she rushes to the kitchen, pulling her hair back into a messy ponytail.

Fitz obediently brushes his teeth, his brain still not having caught up to Jemma’s frantic flurry of activity. When he exits the bathroom, he hears Jemma yell, “Catch!”. He holds up his hands and somehow manages to miraculously catch the apple that Jemma threw at him from across the room.

“Wait,” Fitz says, watching as Jemma shoves her feet into her shoes and slings her messenger bag over her head. “Shouldn’t we talk about last night?”

Jemma pauses for a beat, considering. “That thing you did with your palms was good, but next time, not so much poking, please.” With that, she bites into her apple and flies out the door. “Come on!” she calls over her shoulder.

Fitz blinks. “Next time?”


	2. 7x7 Minutes in Heaven

“Fitz.”

“One second,” Fitz mumbles, as he finishes the last of many adjustments to Sleepy.

“Fiiitz.”

Fitz sets down his screwdriver and turns to look at Jemma. “What is it?”

Jemma shrugs, still focusing on her adjustments to Bashful. “Nothing. I just like saying your name.”

Fitz rolls his eyes. It’s past midnight, which means that Jemma is showing her usual symptoms of sleep deprivation: silliness and the insatiable need for attention. “I need to get more equipment from the supply closet. Do you need anything?”

Jemma peels off her gloves. “Yeah. I’ll come with you.”

“I can get it for you,” Fitz offers, already walking away. “What is it?”

Jemma follows him. “It may require both of us.”

Fitz opens the supply closet door and walks in, Jemma close behind him. He scans the shelves. “What could possibly require both of us?”

Jemma closes the door behind her and locks it. “Practice.”

\-------------

“Did you just…”

“Yeah.”

Jemma doesn’t know when she gained the ability to somehow _know_ what expression is on Fitz’s face even when she can’t see it. The rational scientist in her thinks that maybe she knows because she can hear his rapid breathing and feel the tremor in his hands. But she also knows that all particles of solid matter vibrate in place, and the sentimental scientist in her thinks that maybe she knows because all the particles of his body and and all the particles of her body vibrate at the same frequency. At any rate, she knows that his face is flushed in embarrassment and his eyes are wide and fearful, the same way she knows that that the expression on her face is one it’s never formed before, with concerned eyes and a breathless smile that can’t even begin to contain the frothy giddiness bubbling under her skin.

“It’s okay,” she tells him cheerfully, running her hands down his arms. “I mean, I imagine that’s pretty typical when engaging in frottage.”

Fitz squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t suppose we could immediately go home and pretend this never happened?”

Though Jemma doesn’t necessarily agree with the second part, she can’t argue with the first. She would have to be a sadist to force Fitz to continue working with a sticky mess in his pants. “Sure. Let’s pack up and go home.”

Fitz grasps blindly for the string dangling in the middle of the room and tugs on it, filling the room with light. Now that she can see Fitz again, Jemma can make out the wet spot on the front of his pants and the red hickeys she left all over his chest.

As Fitz picks his trousers up from the floor and pulls them on, he tries not to watch as Jemma hops off the two-drawer file cabinet she’s sitting on and tugs down the pencil skirt that’s bunched up around her waist. Though he’s determinedly looking away from her, he can still, in his peripheral vision, see her scanning the room for her blouse. He grabs it from where it’s draped over a cluster of graduated cylinders on the second shelf and hands it to her.

Jemma smiles shyly at him. “Thanks.” She quickly pulls on her blouse and buttons it up, not bothering to tuck it back into her skirt. She picks up her lab coat from the floor and walks out of the supply closet, immediately starting the process of cleaning up their shared lab bench. Fitz joins her not long after, and between the two of them, they manage clean up and leave the building within a few minutes.

Outside, the campus is empty and quiet. Jemma tilts her head back to look up at the night sky. A blanket of indigo clouds smothers the usual scattering of stars; the only light that makes it through comes from the moon, slim and sharp like a fingernail clipping.

Fitz risks a look at Jemma, hoping she’s not angry at him. She may have been the one to undo and push down his trousers, but he was the one who did a rather embarrassing and enthusiastic impression of a dog in heat mounting the furniture.

Jemma turns her head to look at Fitz when she feels the back of his hand bump into hers. “Sorry ‘bout earlier,” he mumbles. “Shouldn’t have let it get that out of control.”

Jemma bumps the back of her hand into his. “I was there too, you know,” she reminds him. “I could have stopped it if I wanted to.”

They both fall silent, walking quietly side-by-side, the backs of their hands bumping against each other. When their apartment is in sight, Fitz risks hooking his pointer finger around hers.

“But you didn’t?” Fitz asks softly. “Want to stop?”

Jemma interlocks the rest of their fingers, pressing their palms together. “No.” It occurs to her that best friends probably don’t hold hands like this unless they’re playing Red Rover, so she swings their arms wildly and playfully, back and forth. “In fact, if you hadn’t… _you know_...I probably would have… _you know_...too.” 

Fitz stops in his tracks, inadvertently pulling Jemma back. “Really?” he blurts, far louder than he means to. He had no idea at the time - the darkness hid her face from him, and if she had made any encouraging sounds or noises, it had been drowned out by the cacophonous pounding of his heart.

Jemma turns to face him, smiling shyly. She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks down at the ground. “I was probably about 15 seconds away.”

Fitz isn’t quite sure what the appropriate response to that would be. Nice try? Great effort? Maybe next time? He finally settles on -

“Sorry,” Fitz mumbles.

Jemma turns to continue walking, pulling Fitz along with her. “It’s alright.”

Fitz rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, not certain how his next words will be received. “Um, look, if you never want what we did tonight to happen again, I understand.” He pauses, waiting for her agreement. When it doesn’t come, he continues. “Or...um...or maybe...if you want to try again...I could make it up to you? Or try to, at least?”

Jemma squeezes his hand. “No pressure,” she says casually. “We can just keep practicing until you do.”


	3. Fair is Fair

“Fitz. It’s not rocket science!”

“I know. Rocket science is easy,” Fitz grumbles, still fumbling with the clasp. He leans forward, ostensibly to press kisses to her shoulder, but really because he’s hoping that actually looking at what he’s doing might help him with the task at hand.

“Fitz.” Jemma’s voice switches from exasperated to breathy.

Fitz turns his attention to her neck and redoubles his efforts.

“Fitz.”

He thinks he’s almost got it. He’s definitely close to unclasping the bloody thing.

"FitzFitzFitzFitzFitz."

Finally understanding that Jemma is saying his name not because she’s in the throes of passion, but because she wants to get his attention, he distractedly mumbles, "Yeah?"

Jemma pulls away from Fitz, not confident in her ability to get her next words out when Fitz is somehow making her brain short-circuit every five seconds. “I was thinking...you know how you’ve seen me without my bra?”

Fitz grins. “Yes. I definitely know that.”

“Well, I was wondering...if maybe...just to make things more equal, you see,” Jemma stammers. “If I could maybe see your...your…”

“Nipples?” Fitz guesses.

This would normally be Jemma’s cue to roll her eyes in exasperation, but she’s too busy trying to ward off a panic attack. “What I mean is...I was wondering if maybe you could take off your pants?”

Fitz stares at her. He swallows audibly. “Oh.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily touch anything,” Jemma rushes to add. “I just was wondering if I could...you know...look.”

Fitz flushes bright red. “I suppose...I mean...could I see...you...too?”

“Oh!” Jemma doesn’t quite know why the thought of it is so surprising.

“To make things equal,” Fitz rushes to add.

“Well…” Jemma blushes. “Technically speaking, I’ve already shown you the two appendages. You would just be showing me one.”

Fitz scowls. “It’s not my fault that you have two breasts and I only have one penis!”

Jemma stares at him, a smile overtaking her face. “Fitz!” Jemma claps twice in glee, beaming. “You used the anatomically correct names for them!”

Fitz rolls his eyes. “It’s not that big a deal.”

Jemma launches forward to hug him. “I am so proud of you!”

“Jemma! Stop! You’re embarrassing me!” Fitz protests.

Jemma sits back and nods once, emphatically. “You’re right, Fitz. If you’re going to be completely naked, it’s only fair that I’m completely naked, too.

Fitz raises his eyebrows. “So we’re doing this then?”

Jemma stands from the couch. “I guess so.” She reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra.

“Wait, here?” Fitz yelps, glancing worriedly around the living room. “Shouldn’t we move this into one of our bedrooms?”

“You’re right,” Jemma acknowledges. “We wouldn’t want to get caught by my roommate. Speaking of, have you met Fitz yet? He’s pretty cute, but he’s a _complete_ wanker.”

Fitz scrambles to his feet and grins. “You think I’m cute?”

Jemma drops her bra on the couch and gives him a pointed look. “Fitz. Focus.”

“Right.” Fitz schools his face into a serious expression. “Count of three?” he suggests.

Jemma nods. “One…”

Fitz hesitantly pinches his waistband between the thumb and forefinger of each hand. “Two…”

“Three!” they say in unison, pushing down their underwear.

It takes every ounce of Fitz’s self control to keep his hands at his sides instead of covering himself up. Jemma seems just as nervous and self-conscious, staring more or less exclusively down _there_ , eyes wide and lips pressed tightly together.

At first, he's relieved and pleased when she looks up at his face and the corners of her lips curve up into a slight smile. But then she claps her hand over her mouth and her eyes crinkle in the corners and her shoulders shake and he realizes that she's _laughing_.

She must see the indignance and embarrassment on his face, because she rushes to explain, "I'm not laughing at you! I promise!"

Fitz grabs his pants off the floor. "Sure seems like it," he mutters. He can't get his clothes back on quickly enough.

"No, I just have a case of the giggles! I have no idea why!" Jemma protests breathlessly, her words lurching in staccato syllables.

"Well, I'm glad that my...my… _equipment_ is so amusing to you," he retorts.

Jemma tugs on her knickers, still trying to suppress her laughter. "I just...I think it just struck me suddenly how bizarre it is for us to be doing this."

Fitz pauses. He supposes he can't argue with that. It is a bit bizarre. He's never had a best friend before Jemma, but he assumes it isn't common for best friends to consensually stare at each other naked out of pure curiosity. He smiles in agreement. "I reckon you're right."

"And I couldn't help thinking of -" Jemma devolves into another fit of laughter, wrapping her arms around her stomach and bending over. "Remember that time when you got _completely_ pissed -"

Fitz can see where this was going. "Please don't," he pleads.

"And you kept going on about how you didn't understand Harry Potter -"

"Yes, I remember! You don't have to remind me!"

"And all I could think about right now was..." Jemma pauses in an attempt to catch her breath and regain her composure. She's rather unsuccessful. _"It's Nagini!"_ she chokes out. Jemma grabs her blouse off the floor and presses it into her face, trying to smother her laughter.

"It's not funny!" Fitz protests. He wonders why _he’s_ the one who feels so vulnerable when he, at the very least, has put his pants and undershirt back on and she's still only in her knickers. 

Jemma sucks in her cheeks, clearly trying her best to keep from laughing again. “I’m sorry,” Jemma garbles out, doing the best impression of a fish that Fitz has ever seen. “It’s very serious.” Despite this, Fitz can tell that she’s about to start laughing again, so he stops her the only way he knows how.

He kisses her.

\-----------------

It’s not that they _intentionally_ get naked in front of each other in the following weeks. It’s just that they start caring a bit less about privacy.

Because what’s the point of closing the bedroom door while changing into pajamas? Or the bathroom door while taking a shower? Especially when they’ve already seen it all.

So when Jemma has the tremendously compelling urge to pee while Fitz is in the shower, she takes advantage of the open bathroom door and uses the opportunity to relieve herself. Naturally, Fitz chooses to turn off the shower and slide the vinyl curtain open while she is still sitting on the toilet with her knickers pooled around her ankles. His eyes widen a bit when he sees her, and Jemma, mortified as she is, decides that the only way to alleviate her embarrassment is to embarrass him as well.

“Why hello, Nagini.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that the events of Whiskey Business occur in EVERY 'verse.


	4. Slippery When Wet

Jemma flops down next to Fitz on the peeling leather loveseat in the back corner of the Boiler Room. “She wouldn’t let me buy the beers!” she complains, crossing her arms over her chest. “Which is ridiculous because I obviously have at least one Ph.D., because I’m _here_ , and I’m perfectly legal back home…”

Fitz eyes the new bartender as Jemma continues her rant. In the past, Jemma had always been able to get away with buying beers for the two of them by flirting with the bartenders behind the counter, but there’s a new one tonight and she is evidently immune to Jemma’s bright smile and awkward flirting.

Fitz places a hand on Jemma’s knee. Jemma clams up mid-sentence and stares at his hand. Fitz blushes and hastily removes it. “Let me have a go at it, yeah?” he suggests.

Jemma nods.

Fitz tries his best to look casual as he walks up to the bar. He leans against the counter, staring at the bartender until she turns to look at him. He holds up two fingers. “Whatever you have on tap,” he tells her.

The bartender wipes her hand on her dishrag as she walks up to him. “ID?”

Shit.

Fitz makes a big production out of searching his pockets before shrugging. “Think I forgot it at home.”

The bartender volleys his shrug back at him. “Guess you better go home and get it then.”

Fitz scowls. “You do realize that everyone in this room has at least one Ph.D., right?”

The bartender raises an eyebrow. “Too bad drinking laws here in the States go by age and not degrees, huh?”

Okay. He can do this. He’s watched Jemma do this a million times.

Fitz tugs on his collar, surreptitiously unbuttoning his top button in the process. He leans forward on his elbows so that the bartender can get a really good look down his shirt.

“It would really make my evening if I could get a beer for me and my friend,” he told her, making his voice high and breathy. “Please? For me?”

The bartender frowns at him in concern. “Is there something in your eye?” she asks. “Why is it twitching like that?” She points towards the back corner of the room. “The bathroom’s back there if you want to flush out your eyes or something.”

Fitz straightens and frowns. “I’ll get right to that, I guess,” he mumbles, flushing in embarrassment.

Fitz can’t bear to look at Jemma as he walks back to their loveseat. He sinks into the cushion next to her and immediately covers his face with his hands. “That was a disaster,” he groans.

Jemma rubs his back comfortingly. “You made an admirable effort.”

“That was bloody embarrassing.”

He can hear the smile in Jemma’s voice. “I thought it was rather adorable.”

Fitz looks up at her in surprise. “Really?”

Jemma nods enthusiastically. “I mean, sure, it was a tad bit pathetic, but adorable nonetheless.”

Fitz slouches back in his seat. “So what should we do with our evening now? Wanna go back to the flat and watch Jurassic Shark?”

Jemma leans forward and whispers in his ear, “Oh, I think there’s still quite a few things we can do here before we resort to returning to our flat.”

\-----------------

Jemma winces and grabs Fitz's wrist. "That's enough," she tells him, breathing heavily and guiding his hand out from under her skirt.

Fitz's eyes widen in concern. "Did I hurt you? Was it bad?" he asks, his voice shaky.

Jemma smiles and shakes her head. "No, it's just that it gets really sensitive after...after...you know."

Fitz nods in understanding. "Ohhh. Right." He pauses and looks at her sheepishly. "After what, exactly?"

Jemma blushes as she readjusts her knickers. "After a...uhhh...a climax?"

Fitz swallows audibly. "So...you...uhhh..."

"Yeah."

"Oh." Fitz looks down at the sticky linoleum and scratches the back of his head. “Even though I didn’t...um...inside…”

“Most females orgasm through clitoral stimulation rather than penetration,” Jemma informs him, hoping that keeping her words as clinical as possible will keep her from feeling awkward. She is wrong. She feels quite comfortable with Fitz most of the time, but talking about this in particular makes her feel agitated at a molecular level and she can’t help but feel like she’s about to jump out of her skin. Jemma bites her lip. “You might want to…” she gestures to the sink next to them.

“Right.” Fitz busies himself with washing his hands. "Uh, so I know this wasn't within our previously established parameters for practice...so-"

"Don't apologize," Jemma cuts him off. "It's okay." She turns to stand next to him and looks at his reflection in the mirror. "And really, if you think about it, we've expanded our parameters before."

Fitz nods slowly. "That's true."

"And theoretically," she continues, "this is also something you'd want to be good at when the time comes."

Fitz knows that she's referring to when they start dating other people, but lately the thought of doing what they're doing with anyone else makes him vaguely nauseated. Probably because it makes him nervous to think about doing this with anyone he doesn't know as well as Jemma. He can't imagine feeling as comfortable with anyone else. He nods anyways.

Jemma looks down and focuses intently on the lock of hair between her fingers, inspecting each strand as though searching for split ends. "So if you wanted to practice that some more..um...on me...I wouldn't mind."

Fitz has the fleeting thought that maybe this isn't the best idea. He wonders if maybe they've let this slip out of their control. But then he acknowledges that maybe, whatever this is they're doing, he's never had control of it in the first place.

So he nods anyways.

Jemma nudges Fitz out of the way so she can turn on the faucet and wash her hands as well. When she’s done, she flicks her fingers in Fitz’s direction, sending water droplets flying into his face. “Ready to go?” she asks.

As they leave the men’s restroom, they ignore the stares of the line of people outside the women’s restroom. Jemma tears down the messily scrawled “Out of Order” sign that she had taped on the door, while Fitz folds up the yellow “Caution: Slippery When Wet” floor sign in the hall.

“All fixed!” Jemma chirps brightly, determinedly avoiding looking at Sally Weber’s amused (and slightly judgmental) smirk.

When her announcement is greeted with grumbles of disbelief, (“Dammit, Fitzsimmons!”, “I really needed to pee!”, “Again?!”) Jemma grabs Fitz’s hand and whispers, “Run.”


	5. Shake It Like A Shake Weight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, EXTREMELY NSFW...

Fitz is pretty sure he’s died and gone to 80’s sex comedy movie purgatory.

Because what other reason is there for him to come home to Jemma walking around their apartment in nothing but a t-shirt and striped cotton knickers?

“You’re home!” Jemma greets him, closing the freezer door. She removes the lid from the carton of ice cream on the counter. “The air conditioner’s busted - can you take a look at it?”

Fitz drops his book bag on the floor. “Where’re your trousers?”

Jemma looks down at herself in mock surprise. “I don’t know! I guess they disappeared!”

Fitz recovers quickly. “Jemma! You didn’t go to class like that, did you?” he asks jokingly, approaching her.

Jemma wrinkles her nose. “Was I not supposed to?” She grabs two spoons from the utensil drawer and hands one to Fitz.

Fitz shakes his head in disappointment. “Jemma, how many times have we had this conversation? You need to wear something on your legs _every day_.”

“Ohhhhh.” Jemma widens her eyes as though being hit by a sudden realization. “I thought you said only _some_ days. Like on Mondays and Thursdays.” Jemma hops onto the kitchen counter and digs her spoon into the ice cream carton.

Fitz turns to face her, placing his hands on the counter on either side of her legs and leaning his weight on them. “No, it’s definitely every day.”

Jemma passes him the ice cream carton. “But have you ever tried walking around without trousers? It’s quite liberating.” She lightly kicks the back of his leg with her heel.

Fitz takes the carton from her and digs his own spoon inside. “Can’t say I have. I happen to be a fine, upstanding citizen who only acts appropriately in all possible contexts.”

Jemma resists the urge to remind him that he’s not technically a citizen here in favor of running her fingertips over his belt buckle. “Well, I happen to think that taking off your trousers might be appropriate in the context of eating ice cream in a stuffy, overheated apartment.”

Fitz grins and sets aside the ice cream carton. “And what about in the context of _practicing_ in a stuffy overheated apartment?”

Jemma wraps her legs around his waist and leans in. “That is most definitely appropriate.” She squeaks as Fitz slides his hands under her thighs and pulls her forward, lifting her off the counter. Fitz takes two stumbling steps backwards, but grins in pride when he steadies himself. Jemma wraps her arms around his shoulders, laughing as he carries her out the kitchen. “When did you get to be so strong?” she asks teasingly.

“I’ve been working out,” Fitz brags.

Jemma raises her eyebrows. “Have you really?”

Fitz scoffs. “Of course not. When would I even have the time?” He stops in his tracks. “Oh, craptastic,” he grunts, turning around and heading back to the kitchen.

Jemma frowns. “What are you doing? Where are we going?”

Fitz stumbles forward and plops Jemma back on the counter. “I forgot about the ice cream.” One arm still wrapped around her waist, Fitz reaches to open the freezer door.

Jemma leans forward to press kisses into his neck, even as he leans away to put the ice cream back in the freezer. “Later,” she mumbles into his skin.

“It’ll melt.”

“I don’t care.”

Fitz pulls away and gives her a disbelieving look. “We have to save the ice cream!”

While Fitz is distracted, Jemma uses the opportunity to unbuckle his belt and push his trousers down his legs. Once Fitz realizes what she’s doing, he practically slams the freezer door shut and immediately lifts her again, attempting to step out of his trousers as he carries her out the kitchen.

Jemma laughs as Fitz scrambles to readjust his grip on her once he realizes that she’s starting to slide down to the floor. “I’m perfectly capable of walking,” she reminds him.

“I’m perfectly capable of carrying you,” Fitz shoots back, offended. “Besides, I need the practice.” He kicks open his slightly ajar bedroom door and drops Jemma onto his bed, sending her hair flying everywhere. He climbs on top of her and gives her a peck on the lips. “Also, I’m very strong and manly and don’t you ever forget it.”

Jemma grins and rolls Fitz over so that he’s lying on his back and she’s straddling him on top. Fitz glares at her. “How’d you do that?” he demands.

Instead of responding, Jemma leans down to kiss him, busying her fingers with unbuttoning his shirt. Once it’s completely unbuttoned, Fitz leans up to withdraw his arms from his sleeves. As he clumsily flops around, Jemma slides her hand into the opening of his pants to pet a very excited Nagini.

“Jemma!” Fitz yelps, pulling his lips away from hers. “What’re you doing?”

Jemma just smiles mischievously, wraps her hand around Nagini, and pulls it out of its cave. “Hello, Nagini,” she coos.

Fitz groans, his head flopping back into his pillow. “Stop calling it that! I said it _once_ \- and I was completely legless at the time!”

Jemma holds Nagini in her palm and strokes it with one finger, the way she does when she’s petting the lab rats. To Fitz’s horror, the inflection of her voice rises and falls in the same sing-song pattern people reflexively fall into when encountering something tiny. “Aw, you’re so adorable! Yes you are! Yes you are!”

Fitz presses his palms into his eyes. “Christ, Jemma! It’s not a bloody kitten!”

“Sorry,” Jemma apologizes, not sounding sorry at all. “I guess I need to practice my bedroom talk.” She looks back at Nagini. “Ooh,” she says in a exaggeratedly husky voice, “You’re so… _turgid_.”

Jemma frowns and looks back up at Fitz. “Why is she getting softer?”

Fitz groans. “First of all, _Simmons_ , my peen is not a _she_. And secondly, what do you expect when you get off on humiliating her? It. Me! _Dammit Simmons_!”

Jemma smirks and leans forward to kiss him. “I’m sure I can think of a way to make it up to you.” She leans over to search his bedside table. “Do you have any lotion?”

Fitz furrows his brow. “No. Why?” He raises his eyebrows as the implication of her words catches up to him. “Wait. Seriously?” He reaches over the side of the bed to search blindly (and frantically) among the scattered clothes and clutter on the floor. “Here it is!” he grins triumphantly, holding the jar of Vaseline out to Jemma and removing the lid for her.

Jemma wrinkles her nose and peers inside. She shrugs and reaches inside to scoop out a large glob with her fingers. “Better than nothing, I suppose.”

\--------------

\-----------

“It’s not coming off, Fitz!” Jemma scrubs her hands vigorously under the running water.

“Just use more soap!” Fitz tells her from inside the shower.

“Why do you even have Vaseline?” Jemma complains.

“It was a present for you.”

Jemma is silent for a long moment. “Ummmm…”

“A joke gift!” Fitz rushes to explain. “Because of Dr. Hall. I just saw it at the grocery store the week after we got back from the conference and I bought it impulsively, thinking it was funny, and I was going to gift wrap it and everything, but then once I got home, I was too embarrassed to give it to you because I thought you might take it the wrong way and that you wouldn’t think it was funny and then I ended up opening it and I couldn’t give it to you anyways.”

Jemma isn’t quite sure how to respond to that. She thinks that if Fitz had given her a gift-wrapped jar of Vaseline the week after their talk with Dr. Hall, she probably would have found it hilarious. But she doesn’t know how to share that, nor does she find the Vaseline funny in her current predicament, so she goes back to complaining. “My hands are going to be slippery forever!”

“Consider it karma for making fun of Nagini for being tiny.” Fitz somehow manages to sound vindictive and embarrassed at the same time.

Jemma rolls her eyes even though she knows Fitz can’t see her. “First of all, we’re scientists. We both know karma doesn’t exist.”

“Yeah, but -”

“And secondly, I wasn’t making fun of her, I was just being silly. Besides, according to my research, Nagini is actually half a standard deviation larger than average.”

The shower curtain slides to the side and Fitz’s head peeks out from behind, a hopeful expression on his face. “Is she really?”

Jemma just grins at him, waiting for his own words to catch up to him.

Fitz scowls. “I meant _it_!” He disappears behind the curtain. “ _Dammit Simmons_!”

\-------------------

“Hello Templeton,” Jemma coos, holding the white lab rat gently in her hand. “Oh, you’re so adorable. Yes you are. Yes you are.”

Fitz tries his level best to ignore her, but Nagini can apparently hear Jemma loud and clear and twitches with interest when she hears Jemma use the same voice intonation as the day of their last playdate.

“We’re just going to give you a tiny little shot,” Jemma tells Templeton, injecting him with her latest version of her antiserum. She places Templeton back in his cage. “There you go, darling. All done.”

Fitz scowls. Leave it to Jemma to figure out how to Pavlov poor Nagini after one trial. Which really is unfortunate, considering that day was so traumatizing to both of them that he highly doubts that Jemma will ever want to practice _that_ with him again. In fact, after they both finished washing off, Fitz went straight to work on fixing the air conditioner and Jemma sat at the dining room table with her laptop and a bowl of ice cream and neither of them brought up whether that particular activity was something they should continue to practice.

Jemma walks to where Fitz is tinkering with a drone and leans against the lab bench. “I’m just about ready to call it a day. How about you?”

“Sure. Just give me a couple minutes.”

“Great!” Jemma smiles brightly at him. “I’ll start cleaning up.” She sets something down on the lab bench and walks away.

Fitz waits until he’s done with the adjustment he’s working on before looking at what Jemma left for him. To his surprise, he finds a small gift sitting on the table, wrapped in blue paper with crisp edges and sharp corners.

He unties the huge bow on top and carefully unwraps the box, making sure to keep the paper intact. When he removes the lid of the box and looks inside, he can’t help but laugh.

It’s a bottle of lotion.


	6. So We Don't Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A different kind of first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after So Quite A New Thing.
> 
> I struggled to figure out how to end this, as the events of So Quite A New Thing would seem like the most logical and natural conclusion, and that's already it's own fic...but I think I figured it out? Hope this works for you!

The first thing that Jemma registers when she wakes up is that her head hurts. Her head hurts a lot. She smacks her lips a couple of times, registering the aftertaste of beer and...tequila and...barbecue ribs? She rolls onto her side, getting a mouthful of sauce-crusted hair in the process. Not barbecue ribs. Buffalo wings. Definitely buffalo wings.

The second thing Jemma notices is that she’s lying next to Fitz. This is not unusual by any means. Lately, she’s been waking up next to Fitz more often than not. But the past couple of months, when she wakes up next to Fitz, they’re usually warm in bed and cuddling naked under the covers. This time, they’re sprawled on the hardwood floor in their living room, only a couple meters from their front door, limbs held in awkward positions. Jemma looks down at herself. Her blouse is unbuttoned, exposing her bra underneath, and although her jeans are unbuttoned and unzipped, they’re still pulled up around her hips. Fitz is completely naked except for his socks, which is to be expected. Fitz always somehow ends up naked when he gets blackout drunk.

Jemma lifts her head up to look around the room, and immediately wishes she hadn’t. She winces. “Too bright,” she mutters. She climbs over Fitz, trying to make her way to the curtains so she can draw them closed, accidentally kneeing his ribs in the process.

“Oof!” Fitz grunts. “Ow. Why, Jemma?” he moans.

“Accident,” Jemma mumbles, stumbling and falling back onto the floor. “Ow.” She covers her face with both palms and curls into the fetal position on her side. “Why’d you let me drink so much?”

Fitz squeezes his eyes shut as her words wiggle their way through his ear and into his brain and starts smashing it all to goo like a sledgehammer. Logically, he knows she's speaking softly, but she might as well be shouting her words through a bullhorn. “Stop. Talking.”

Jemma hears paper crinkling under her cheek and realizes that she’s lying on one of Fitz’s blueprints. She pulls it out from beneath herself and glances at it. “Oh, Fitz,” she groans. “You wrote on one of your designs last night - you must’ve had an idea!” She hates this - Fitz always gets his most brilliant ideas when they’re completely legless and they can never remember what they are.

“What did I write?” Fitz asks.

“Write it down so we don’t forget.”

Fitz wrinkles his nose in confusion. “Huh?”

“That’s what you wrote,” Jemma explains. “Write it down so we don’t forget.”

\----------

_10 hours earlier_

Jemma and Fitz stumbled clumsily into their flat, lips fused together and hands grasping wildly at hair, at clothes, at skin. Jemma pushed Fitz against the door, slamming it shut behind him.

“Love it when you get like this,” Fitz mumbled into her mouth.

In response, Jemma attempted to jump on Fitz, wrapping her legs around his waist. Fitz lost his balance and they collapsed onto the ground.

Jemma rolled away from Fitz, laughing hysterically. Fitz flopped around on the floor, attempting to push his jeans off his legs. “Jemma - help!” he wailed plaintively.

Jemma crawled over to Fitz and helped him pull his jeans and pants the rest of the way off. She straddled him and leaned down, kissing him as he frantically tugged at the buttons of her blouse. Once it was all the way unbuttoned, Fitz ran his hands up her chest and to her shoulders, pushing the blouse open as he went.

Jemma grabbed his hands and pinned them to the floor on either side of Fitz’s head, grinning lasciviously. She leaned down, touching her forehead to his. “Hi,” she whispered.

With Jemma pinning him down, Fitz had the fleeting thought that he’s finally as physically helpless under Jemma as he was emotionally helpless. Jemma’s hair fell around their faces, curtaining off the world outside, and Fitz’s universe narrowed to her eyes looking into his eyes and before his pathetically slow brain cells could catch up to his mouth, he blurted out, “I love you.”

Jemma’s eyes widened and she jerked back up to a sitting position, releasing Fitz’s hands. “What?”

Fitz shook his head. “Nothing!” He sat back up and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m really super drunk.”

Jemma’s eyes flickered across his face. Her bottom lip trembled and she suddenly burst into tears.

“No!” Fitz exclaimed, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. “Don’t cry - I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to ruin it.”

“Don’t!” Jemma hiccuped.

“I won’t!” Fitz promised.

“Don’t take it back.” Jemma wiped at her eyes. “Please.”

Fitz leaned back to look at her face. “What?” He knew he was drunk and his senses were muddled, but he'd never had auditory hallucinations before.

Jemma shook her head. “Please say you meant it," she sniffled. "Please - just say it again so I know you meant it.”

Fitz looked at her in disbelief. “That I love you?”

Jemma nodded forcefully. “Yes. That.”

Fitz gave her a tentative smile. He brought a hand up to push her hair behind her ear. “I love you, Jemma.”

Jemma smiled and let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-hiccup. “I love you too, Fitz.” She felt unstable, suddenly, with her erratically beating heart and her shaking hands. Now that all the tension and worry that has been holding her together had dissipated, she was trembling at her fault lines, ready to crumble - a different kind of release.

Fitz laughed in relief. “Oh, God. I’ve been so scared to tell you!”

Jemma started laughing as well. “Me too! I was so worried I’d ruin everything!”

Fitz pointed between the two of them. “But we both love each other! This is perfect!”

Jemma frowned.

Fitz narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re frowning. Why are you frowning? Stop that!”

Jemma bit her bottom lip. “It’s just that...we’re completely legless right now.”

Fitz nodded. “So? It doesn’t make what we said less true, does it?”

“No! Of course not!” Jemma exclaimed. “It’s just…” She furrowed her brow. “What if we forget?”

Fitz wrinkled his nose in confusion. “Forget that we love each other?”

Jemma shook her head. “No! Forget this conversation! And we wake up tomorrow scared to tell each other again!”

Fitz smiled. “I have an easy solution.”

“What’s that?”

“We write it down so we don’t forget.”

Jemma threw her arms around his neck. “That’s brilliant, Fitz! We write it down so we don’t forget!”

Fitz gently disentangled himself from her. “Paper,” he mused to himself. He looked around the room and saw the corner of one of his blueprint drafts hanging off the edge of the counter that separates the kitchen from the living room. He dragged himself to the counter and pulled the sketch down to the floor, sending an assortment of pencils, eraser, and paper clips tumbling to the floor as well.

Jemma tapped Fitz on his shoulder. “Write it down so we don’t forget,” she reminded him.

Fitz stuck out his tongue in concentration as he scribbled on the paper. “Write it down so we don’t forget,” he muttered to himself as he wrote. He grinned at Jemma when he was done writing. “I love you!” he exclaimed.

Jemma’s smile was blindingly bright. “I love you too!” She threw her arms around his neck and their lips met again and although they had all intentions of consummating their love, they ended up falling asleep in the midst of their drunken fumblings.

\---------------

_Present_

Fitz takes a long sip of coffee and grimaces. “Ugh.”

Jemma collapses onto the sofa next to him, her wet hair brushing against his arm. After much whining and groaning, they had finally been able to drag themselves off the floor and into the shower. Now that they were properly freshened up and treating their hangover with aspirin and coffee, Fitz was hopeful they could remember last night’s scientific discovery.

“Write it down so we don’t forget,” Fitz reads off the blueprint. He wrinkles his nose. “I wonder what it was we didn’t want to forget?”

Jemma shrugs and sighs in resignation. “Oh, well. I’m sure it will come to us eventually.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More than a month after I posted the last chapter, I figured it was about time to wrap this sucker up. I do have one more installment planned for this 'verse, but I might step away from this for a little bit and work on something else.
> 
> But, I AM on spring break, so we'll see how much I accomplish this week ;)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm LalalliCat on Tumblr. Let's be friends!
> 
> Comments and constructive feedback are appreciated.


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